Saturday, February 11, 2017

Fiction: The Perfect Distraction

Mr. Riley sat comfortably at his
desk. He had done so many times within the year within the span of a decade as
so many of his peers did. He did not really care to lament the condition of the
human species tied to the cycles of materialism and time. Nor did he care to
mull over the condition of the soul. He simply did as he was told. He simply
stood in line like everybody else waiting his turn, or hoping he at least had a
turn. In this world of first class cynicism and lowered expectation, he found
that he was okay with that. There was a message in there somewhere for him.
There was something his astral guides and guardian angels were trying to tell
him, but he lacked the receiver, and the signal went on into the fragments of
space.

It
was noon time. At noon time he had his second meal of the day. At half passed
noon he would return to work. He opened his lunch bag, a blue rectangle with a
black zipper. The contents were a sandwich of rye bread and roast beef with
provolone cheese and green leaf lettuce and mustard, a few pickle spears, and a
can of soda pop. The flavor was red. He didn’t quite know what flavor it was
exactly. It could have been vanilla or bubble gum, or a combination of the two.
But it had a kick to it. He thought it would help his digestion. Mr. Riley went
about eating his lunch like he’d do any day. He had a handful of hours yet
before his work day was done and then he’d be off to go have dinner before
relaxing in front of the television then climbing into bed. He finished his
meal with just enough time to relieve himself before continuing on his work.
Mr. Riley stood up and left his desk and his tiny closet like office. He walked
to the men’s room, paying no attention to the other people who worked in tiny
offices around him, too. They walked around the hallways, not really paying
attention either. They kind of just stared off into the distance as if there
were no one else present in the room, not even so much as a twitch of a pupil.
He wasn’t exactly sure what the function of his co-workers were. They all
crunched numbers for some agency or corporation, but beyond that he had no
clue.
He
entered the special needs bathroom which he preferred because it was a single
use bathroom and offered him more privacy. Mr. Riley sat and thought about his
day. It helped to pass with greater ease. Mr. Riley was about done cleaning
himself when the lights in the bathroom switched off. His heart kicked in his
chest before slowing to a heavy, thumping pulse. They flickered and turned off
again. It was black all around. He was startled and began fumbling in the dark
for the toilet paper dispenser. Having found it he gathered more paper and
carefully guided the wad for a final, cleaning wipe. Next he reached in his pants, crumpled on the
floor, for his phone. He jabbed the screen and it flashed on providing a dull
gray light in the darkened white ceramic bathroom. He put his phone screen up
on the dispenser and proceeded to pull up his pants. His heart had stopped
thrumming and slowed. He briefly wondered what was going on, and figured there
had been a circuit blown out or something. He wondered if it had affected the
whole building, or just the floor, or what? Great,
he thought, now I’ll get behind on my
work. The thought of working after hours because of a blown fuse was
irritating. He finished washing his hands and retrieved his phone from the
dispenser. He opened the door, but when he did, Mr. Riley wasn’t sure he knew
exactly where he was.
Benjamin Riley slammed the
door to the bathroom. He found himself in blackness again. He took a moment to
think. The light had still not turned on. It seemed the fuse had still
been blown. He reached his hand to open the door. He turned the knob. When
he opened the door what he saw on the other side was not the office as he
remembered it. It wasn’t an office at all. It was some place he was certain he’d
been before, but at the same time he wasn’t sure. He seemed to be in a corridor
of some sort with closed doors lining as far down as the eye could see. The
hall was dimly lit, the carpeting was elegant, dark and highly styled. He
walked into the corridor. He walked forward and turned directly to his right.
There was a telephone bank of four gold-pleated phones and an elevator foyer.
He looked at the elevators. He was on the 14th floor. He pressed the down button which in turn lit red. A few minutes passed before the bell signaled the lift had arrived.
The doors opened revealing a standard size cabin with tan and burgundy striped
walls and stained cherry wood base-boards and dividers. Gold-plated buttons and
decorations accented the cabin. A man stood to the left side of the elevator.
He seemed to shrink inside himself and jitter, nervous-like. Mr. Riley pushed the ground-floor level, the
one marked with a star and the number “1.” Ben Riley was still at a loss for
where he was. He stood silently in the elevator, feeling strange vibes from the
man next time him. He wondered who he was. The lift moved steadily down without
falter or stop. Finally about the fifth floor, Ben Riley turned to the other
passenger, looking at his piqued demeanor and shrunken-in eyes and pointy nose.
He was also bald and gray of color.
“Excuse,
me, but, would you mind telling me what building we are in?”
The
man looked at Ben Riley for a moment as if he weren’t sure he was talking to
him. The man’s head seemed to shrink
into his shoulders. A grin began to crack around the corners of his mouth. The
smile was dehydrated. The elevator bell sounded, just as the man began to laugh
and cackle gleefully. He shook Ben Riley’s hand proudly and scurried out of the
elevator leaving Ben Riley more confused than before. Ben exited the elevator before the door closed
again. He found himself in the lobby of what looked like a hotel. The carpets and the draperies were a deep
maroon color. The walls and furniture were a bone white color. Gold and deep
cherry-red mahogany accented the room’s architecture. People moved around. There was an electric
quality to their energy. The room seemed to buzz. He walked forward. As he
placed his foot down there was a rumble in the ground. A unanimous whimper
released from the lips of all the people scurrying about the lobby. Another
rumble vibrated through the floor, this followed by the very building itself seeming
to shake. The lights flickered. He realized people weren’t just scurrying, they
were moving with a true sense of urgency. He looked at the current of people
and decided to follow the biggest stream of them. He was rushed towards the
exit and into the great outdoors. The sky was blue, though his surroundings
seemed to have a grey tint to it. Before him were many concrete structures,
like roads or highways, bridges, overpasses. People scurried along on these as
well. There were several plumes of black smoke hanging in the sky. Ben heard
another low rumble and the sound of an explosion in the distance. He heard a
rush of noise coming from not far either. It sounded like a maddening crowd of
people. It was unlike anything he’d heard of before.
“Run!”
He heard someone yell. He wasn’t sure what to do. People all around him were
running. It didn’t seem that anyone really had a plan of where they were going.
They were just going. Ben ran from the hotel to the streets. He saw bonfires
smoking in separate clusters. Trash littered the ground. People ran in every
direction. Ben ran for an over pass, looking to take cover underneath it. Gun shots
rang out in the distance.
Ben began to get the feeling
that there was some major event happening and he somehow got trapped in the
middle of it. He was far away from the bathroom. He was further from his desk
and his office. He picked up his pace, his feet falling hard on the concrete as
he rushed to the over pass. The ground inclined and narrowed into a concrete
pit beneath the overpass. Gunshots and explosions continued to sound off in the
distance. There were others in the pit already, ducking against the wall, some
with their hands over the head as if to protect from falling objects. The
ground rumbled and vibrated again. Ben Riley walked over to one of the men in
the pit. He was tall and bearded. His beard was a salted auburn pelt, wiry and
bushy. He was dressed in all black: pants, coat and shirt. His coat was
corduroy. He wore thin oval specks and had pointed ears and a long rounded
nose.
“Excuse
me.” Ben called to the tall man. “Excuse me, but what is going on here?” The
man turned to Ben, looking down somewhat surprised, but not.
“Well,
don’t you know what is going on around you?”
“I
guess not.” Ben replied. The man grunted.
“The
signs have been around you the entire time. Here you are, now. We had to find
some way to tell you.” Ben heard screaming in the background, he heard more
voices yelling, muffled as they were coming from above the over pass. Gunshots
and explosions continued to pierce the silence that was vacuously present when
nothing else sounded. The tall man turned toward the wall and looked up. The
concrete ceiling of the overpass seemed to be much closer than before, a mere
handful of feet above their heads. There were slats cut into the concrete that
allowed them to see the people rushing about on the street as if they stood in
a water drain. There was more black smoke in the sky now. Ben could really see
the people now. They were running, looks of fear on their faces. They were running
for their lives. Others seemed to be fighting. He couldn’t tell who the provocateurs
were. He didn’t see any police. He only saw people running and smoke billowing in
the sky. There was another rumble in the ground and the concrete pit shook. Dust
and pebbles fell from the ceiling. Ben suddenly didn’t feel safe.
“I
think we should move.”
“We
may very well have to.”
Ben looked out the concrete
slat again to the street. He saw a lady running. She was running full speed
ahead when suddenly she fell forward, as if an unseen force had pushed into her. Her face
contorted in pain and she began to scream. But then, her mouth seemed to cover
over with flesh, like it'd been sealed shut with a layer of skin, and
she was silent. She lay on the ground struggling. Then her flesh and clothing began
to sag, and she seemed to melt and become part of the ground, a puddle of flesh,
cloth and hair that sank into the concrete, becoming it. Ben’s heart again
began to thrum tensely. He felt the need to leave immediately.
“You
will have to leave now, sir.” The tall man told Ben. “We can’t have you hanging
around here much longer.” He turned to Ben looking him straight in the eyes. “Be
gone now.” The tall man lifted his hand and slapped Ben Riley on the forehead
right between his eyes. Ben saw a flash of light, as one does when hit in the
face, and a pool of blackness. He heard his heart thrumming. It was pounding in
his ears. He heard it pounding in the blackness. Pound! Pound! Pound! Ben opened his eyes. It was dark. A narrow
light dimly lit the room. The pounding came again. He jerked upwards. The
lights turned on. Ben Riley sat on the commode, his pants around his ankle.
Someone was pounding on the door.
“Hello!” Came a voice, “I have
to go!”
Ben’s
heart jumped. His behind felt tingly and ached from sitting too long. “Uh, occupado.”
He called through the door nervously. He finished up and exited, apologizing to
the employee who scowled at him from her wheelchair as he hurried back to his
desk.